It was the giving up and the "dragging on somehow" which was so terrible to the young ones, especially Adam, who had a great capacity for tenderness, but was shy at showing his affection. He fairly hungered for love and sympathy, and the one of all others, his mother—who should have shown both—gave neither.
The sweetness had been taken out of one portion of Mrs. Livesey's daily life, and she sought none elsewhere. She toiled hard enough to secure bread and shelter for their bodies, but these children's hearts were famished for want of what she might have bestowed if only she had not "given up." Home was brightest when the mother was out of it; for, though the children were neither beaten nor ill-treated—though she gave them the best she could, the presence of the grave, silent woman was like a wet blanket to them all.
Dear mothers, if you could only understand how much it is in your power to brighten your children's lives, you would surely do it. If Adam Livesey's mother had met him with a smile when he came in, and told him that she thanked God for having left her such a helper in her boy! If she had put her arms round his neck and given him a loving kiss, as she took his hardly-won wages, or said she was sorry he had so heavy a weight to carry while still so young! If she had gone with him and her other children to the throne of grace, and there and with them made her requests known unto God, and taught them that, though this may be a world of toil and trial, there is something better beyond! If she had put into their young hearts the precious, cheering thought that, though the earthly father had been taken, they had a Father in heaven, who had given sweet and precious promises to cheer the widow and the orphan! If she had done these things, toil would have been lightened, her children's lives made happier, their yearning for a mother's love satisfied, and within them would have been planted good seeds which, by God's grace, would have doubtless brought forth good fruit in their lives.
She did none of these things, and she reaped fruit of another kind. As the younger boys grew old enough, they went to work, and as soon as they could severed the tie between themselves and the home that had no brightness in it.
All went but Adam. Perhaps he had suffered most, because he was the only one who was old enough to remember the better days during his father's life. He, too, had a trial which the younger boys were spared, for the cup of learning had been snatched from his lips as he was beginning to taste its sweetness. Often was he sorely vexed, when he saw lads with no yearnings after knowledge waste the opportunities he would have prized. But there seemed no help for it.
Years passed, and Adam's boyhood was gone. "Too old to learn now, if I had the chance," he murmured. "I'm o' no account in the world, and I never shall be. I've got nothing to do, but to hammer away until I have struck my last stroke, and then—"
Adam often said these words, but he never finished his sentence. He stopped with "and then," seeming unable to look beyond the moment when, his last day's work on earth being done, some one else would have to lift the tool which his arm could raise no longer.
Adam's work was that of "striker" in a foundry. He had never been apprenticed to any mechanical trade, and his calling was one which required little beyond strength and adroitness. Though wiry, he was very strong, and, happily for him, his depressing surroundings had never driven him to drink.
His mother's last days were free from toil, for, when the other two lads had crossed the ocean and found homes in far-away lands, Adam stayed by her and worked for her. Before Mrs. Livesey died, she seemed to realize that she might have made her children happier, and that she herself might have found a good deal of sweetness towards the bottom of life's cup, if she had not closed her lips against what was left, because of the one bitter draught she had been compelled to drink.
"You'll do better without me, Adam," she said. "I've been nothing but a clog to you all your days. I wish I'd been a bit brighter, but after father died I had hard lines, and I gave up."